When Rats Fly(or Fry)
by ex-LongLongHair
Summary: This was written during a particularly bad chickenpox/fever induced writing spell. Don't really blame me for this. Blame poxymort. He doesn't feature in this though. Neither do rats. Start of a new series(hopefully) if I get heaps of nice reviews. Or con


A/N: Okay. I don't know why I'm starting a new "series" when I already have something like three or four of them to finish. But I just couldn't resist writing something else-blame it on my delirious chickenpox ravings. Yes, I do have chickenpox. And it's really annoying (but I'm sure most of you know that). So you're going to put up with it, and still review at the end. You hear me? Review, or I'll set Poxymort on you! Oh, and by the way, although the title has practically nothing to do with the story at the moment, hopefully I'll get to the chapter where it does. Enjoy!

When Rats Fly (or Fry)

Harry stared down at the little bottle of brownish-yellowish liquid. _What the hell am I supposed to do with it now?_ He asked himself silently. _Oh yes, that's right, I have to drink it._ Harry lifted the bottle up to his mouth. It smelled a little weird. Like the wax he was supposed to use on his broomstick. _Why am I going to drink something that could be broomstick wax?_ He shrugged, and downed the stuff in one gulp. A pleasant tingle spread throughout his body. _Like butterbeer._ He thought to himself.

But this was no butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks. It was no potent brew from Madame Rosmerta's famed collection. Oh no, this was a potion. A very special potion. It guaranteed to brighten up his life. Harry sighed and got off his bed. No one else was there, just him. He shoved the bottle into the bottom of his trunk, along with the Sneakoscope. It was about time he was going to dinner. Roast lamb. It was always roast lamb on Sundays.

Harry walked into the Great Hall. There was no one there. On a whiteboard on the wall, he saw a note to anyone who didn't know that they were having a picnic on the Quidditch Field in honour of April Fool's Day. Harry raised an eyebrow or two. _April Fool's Day…Why hadn't he remembered that?_ Harry turned his footsteps towards the Quidditch Field. It wasn't a long walk, but it took time to get there, with all the twists in the corridors and the fake doors and so on.

On the Quidditch field, he could see people helping themselves to food from the trestle tables lined up along one side, and sitting around, eating and laughing. Harry scanned the crowd for Ron and Hermione. Once, twice, three times. But they were nowhere to be seen. So Harry made his way over to the end of the food queue. He got a large silver plate, and filled it with all the food he could manage to fit on it. _That potion sure has made me hungry._ He thought to himself. After reaching the end of the line of tables, he found a nice spot up on the top row of the Quidditch bleachers.

It was then he noticed the snuffling noises coming from the third row behind him. Harry wasn't sure if he should make a noise just to warn whoever it was that he was there, or to turn around and find out whom it was. In the end, he chose the second option. Putting down his plate on the seat next to him, he twisted his body around to see who it was.

There was a writing mass of white-blond hair and another writhing mass of black hair? _No,_ Harry amended,_ it's black fur._ Just the thought of that astounded him so much he let out a small squeak. But the white-blond stuff was definitely hair. _So much like Malfoy's…_Harry thought, half irrelevantly, and turned back to eating his dinner- roast lamb, as they had every Sunday, as well as an assortment of other foods that he didn't really care to name, although they tasted great. Harry did a double take. _Malfoy and…who would have black fur? And what were they doing up in the Quidditch bleachers making sounds like that-little moans now…_The only thing Harry could think of that had black hair was Sirius-the-dog. Harry made some quick conclusions before jumping the seats and asking them what exactly they were doing. _Obviously doing something they're not supposed to…Sirius back at Hogwarts…Malfoy and Sirius? Dog Sirius? Fighting over something. Something important._ Harry thought speculatively. He put his plate back down on the seat, and proceeded to leap over the seats. He didn't get very far though. He landed spread eagled on the floor of the next row of seats.

Even two people snuffling and moaning over something noticed large crashing noises and people swearing loudly in at least two languages. The big black dog and Draco Malfoy looked up, startled. Then the dog, being the quicker thinker of the two and more seasoned in fighting over bits of meat, grabbed the raw steak from Draco's loose grip, and ran off to another part of the Quidditch stands, gnawing contentedly on the meat. Draco, reconciling himself to the loss of a tasty bit of dinner, looked down at Harry, who was in the throes of agony.

"Well aren't we all just fine and dandy?" Draco sneered, annoyed that some dog could get the better of him, and also by the fact that Harry was the one who had interrupted him.

"Go…away…Malfoy" Harry said painfully.

"What's going on here, boys?" Snape interrupted. Draco scowled at the sudden appearance of a teacher, as it meant that he would not be able to hurl spiteful remarks at Harry any more, but quickly brought his emotions under control. He had to appear like he had nothing to do with this, he thought.

Snape took in the scene. The Potter boy groaning on the floor, Draco looking rather angelic. It was too good to be true. And it wasn't true, not one single bit. Snape could tell, and it showed in his eyes. Those sharp, black eyes.

Draco swallowed nervously. Whatever was supposed to happen didn't, and he wasn't feeling too confident.

"Well Draco, what do you have to say?" Said Snape as he kneeled down to look at the injured Harry.

"I was a few rows up when…when he sort of jumped up and landed _splat_."Draco said, trying to make up a story along the way.

"I see." By the tone of Snape's voice, he saw-straight through Draco's feeble attempt at a fib.

"Uhhhh.." Harry moaned, in too much pain to say anything clearly.

"Draco, tell me what really happened." Snape looked Draco in the eye, fixing him with the stare he usually reserved for Gryffindors.

"Errrrmmmm…."

"Draco," Snape stared harder, "tell me."

"Okay," Draco fidgeted with his fingers, "I was eating when something attracted Potter's attention in my direction-"

Snape cut him off sharply, wanting a to-the-point explanation. "And what was this something?"

"Ummm….forgot sir."

This time, Snape only just saw his cover-up story. "Forgot?"

"Yes."

"And can you give me a lie for that?" Draco, now realizing that Snape had manoeuvred him into a corner, tried to explain again, but was silenced by Snape.

By now, Harry was a bit more conscious, and was listening closely to their conversation.

"Big…black…dog…urrgh" Harry moaned, clutching his right leg, "broken…hurts…" and with that, he fainted with pain, only to be shaken roughly by Snape and woken up immediately.

"Tell me. Tell me all!" Snape said urgently, "I need to know!"

Harry looked up at Snape and Draco standing over him, and promptly lost consciousness again.

"I'll blame this on you until I find otherwise." Snape said sharply to Draco, and conjured up a stretcher for Harry. Then Snape commanded Draco to help take Harry up to the infirmary. After doing so, Draco was told to wait in Snape's office for further punishment.

Meanwhile, McGonagall and Dumbledore contemplated Snape's sudden change of heart in Dumbledore's office. Each had a nice big mug of hot chocolate. Dumbledore had received the recipe from friend who had long gone, a friend named Lando Calrissian. It was the best in the world, and now most people summoned to the Headmaster's office got a mug of it.

"This is very sudden." McGonagall said worriedly, "Are there any ulterior motives in this?" she pondered.

"Remember, Minerva, Snape swore that he would not return to Voldemort, in no matter what conditions." Dumbledore said quietly, deep in thought. "However, his sudden interest in Harry's well-being may just be another attempt to save his life, even if it is from his favourite student, Draco Malfoy."

"Ah yes, the two arch-enemies. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. The light and the dark. Opposites. Yet so much the same." McGonagall mused.

"I do believe, that in different circumstances, they would have been friends." He smiled at the thought of Harry and Draco being chummy.

"Not that again, Albus. I doubt it would have ever happened." McGonagall said wearily. "What I need right now is an all-expenses paid trip to Hawaii. I've been teaching too long with-" she broke off abruptly, realising that the man she was talking to was not only her friend, but her boss.

"We all need a holiday." Albus said wisely, "The last few months have been particularly dreary. I think a change of scene would be good. But how to get all 800 students to Hawaii escapes me." His eyes twinkled as he waited for her reaction.

McGonagall's eyes flew wide with surprise. "Albus! A trip to Hawaii with all of them?"

"No, not quite. Hawaii is, after all, only a small place. Somewhere large and somewhat uninhabited would be better. Somewhere like…" Dumbledore trailed off as Snape burst into the room.

Snape took in the scene-candlelight, mugs of what looked to be like coffee, Nescafe to be precise (he couldn't smell all that well-his sinuses were playing up at the moment), the closely placed chairs, although there were three of them, as if Dumbledore was expecting someone. He flushed in embarrassment. "So sorry, sir, but I have some important news for you.", he apologised, "It really is urgent."

Dumbledore smiled and waved for him to take a seat. "Nothing more urgent than a visit from our Potions master at eleven o'clock at night. Make yourself comfortable."

Snape knew that Dumbledore had never, ever said those last three words to him before, and from that, that something was up.

A/N: Now, you will ::does little Jedi mind trick waving hand thingy:: review. And no, I don't care if you're a Toidarian. You're still going to have to review. Even Toidarians are susceptible to chickenpox! Even Dark Jedi are susceptible to it! So Ni to you too. I will go now, and write a part two or three or something like that for one of my previous fanfics. I'm going to have to get a copious amount of reviews before I continue this though.


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